


Vacancy

by Sing



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Abbie's own unique adventure, Adventure, Crack Fic, Guest starring past characters, It's All about Abbie, Underworld, absolute nonsense, most likely unconventional love story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:23:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5265971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sing/pseuds/Sing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Other side of the Tree.</p><p>Abbie finds herself in an Underworld that is now without a leader. Instantly colliding with a hooded stranger they invite her to take up the post of Ruler of the Underworld. </p><p>However. </p><p>It becomes very clear that Abbie is not the only one who will be vying for this unholy throne. </p><p>Confronted by all of her old enemies, and a few unpredictable new characters, Abbie is going to be challenged to balance this new bizarre mission with her own divine duty as a Witness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own sleepy hollow.

Abbie wakes up face down in the dirt. She groans as she rolls over, glares at the---what is that---above her. It's like darkness but not quite, like waves, something immaterial. She glances around her, flexing her fingers--still humming with residual power from the shard when she hears a noise. She bolts upright, head spinning, hand to her side, finds she's weaponless and gets into a fighting stance instead. 

"Who goes there?" a voice intones. Abbie clamps her mouth shut. They'll speak if it's important enough.

"I said who goes there," a whispery slithering sound and a hooded figure rounds the corner, then pauses, as if shocked to see her. "I see. He's gone has he?"

They don't seem poised to fight, but she is wary of anything and anyone who walks around in cloaks and hoods. The power couple extraordinaire above are prime example of why. 

"She was wrong to come for him before his sentence was served. He was tasked to reign another two years." they continue, drawing closer, circling, Abbie with them, following their path. "and THEN we were to all go above and reclaim the earth. But young love," the character waves their hand dismissively. "They were unruly in their time too. We should have known no oath could hold them to their word. I suppose I should be grateful. If you could hear him muttering and intoning his infallible might day and night it would weary you, trust me. It's going to be peaceful down here for a change. But, these creatures, his former subjects, they need a guiding hand." the hooded head bobs in the direction of Abbie's still glowing hands. "Anything left in it, or just for show? You're going to have to start talking eventually or I'll call a ferry for the river styx and you'll be no good to me, or yourself."

"I'd rather die than be of use to you," she manages coolly. Somehow she gets the sense the creature is smiling at her beneath the shadows of all that cloth. 

"You're a Witness," they conclude. Abbie's surprise doesn't show, but they are kind enough to continue. "Your voice rings with the clarity of the divinely chosen. Of mortality. Come with me,"

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

The figure turns then. "I advise you do,"

"And exactly where are we going?"

"Why, to greet the subjects. Come along Witness, long day ahead," they chide gliding to her and giving her the gentlest push in the back that sends her stumbling forward. It's stronger than it looks, Abbie surmises, storing that information for later. 

"What, subjects" Abbie snaps, glaring daggers at the figure. 

They cock their head to the side. "Why, there's a vacancy for Ruler of the Underworld now that 'the Hidden One' has gone above. You're a shoe in for the job."

"Excuse me?"

"I said, Witness," they hiss. "Welcome, to your new kingdom."


	2. Chapter 2

Abbie finds herself outside of what she assumes is the Underworld equivalent of the unemployment office. She turns her gaze on her still shrouded companion who had chattered, rather pleasantly beside her on the long winding walk to here. She wishes she could place it's voice, it's a timbre that is neither male nor female, old or young. It is, and that is all there is to it. 

"I need to fill out an application?" she sputters a laugh. 

"Mere protocol," her guide says, gliding to the counter and taking up what looks like of all things;a sign up sheet. And then they frown. She's not sure how she knows this, face covered as it is, but something, everything about the creatures form seems to slacken slightly before pulling itself up. "Oh, my,"

"What now," Abbie grumbles, clearly irritated. 

"There have been other applicants."

"Wonderful, you have options, now I can go."

"Not so fasssst Witnesssss" they spit, evidently disgusted by her eagerness. "No idea how long you'll be down here before you escape---I assume that's part of your pitiful plan is it not? to escape? but until then you will be ruled over by whoever presides here if you do not compete"

Compete......the word lodges in her mind but the thing is still talking before she can fully assemble what they're trying to say. 

"Here," the list of applicants is thrust under her nose and Abbie's eyes widen. "You've got to be kidding me,"

"Either you make a play for the throne, Witness, or one of them will be our new head of state. Ruling over us all, and no doubt soon leading us into their own charge on Above. Can you reside here and do nothing? merely watch?"

Abbie's heart hammers and her hands tremble. No way. There is simply no way. She sees the names, reads them, knows how to spell them backwards and forwards and yet it still fails to compute. This can't be happening. She starts over. Reading each name again, slowly. Lips moving with each syllable. 

Katrina Crane

Henry Parish

Abraham Van Brunt

Moloch

Solomon Kent

Serilda of Abbadon 

......her eyes begin crossing. This is literally a list of every foe she and Crane had ever thwarted. They'd all come here? They were all now vying for paranormal office?

"So what," she begins, voice trembling as terror sinks in. If any of these creatures won, they would literally inherit an army and resources to rage full war on earth. Not to mention Pandora and her eternal love already wreaking havoc. "I run for office? we go on a campaign trail?"

The figure's body shivers with laughter grating on her ears. "No, no, they are simple minded down here. They understand power, strength, conniving and guile. They like to be shown rather than told."

"Out with it," she commands. 

"Ooh, I got goosebumps. See, you'll be a worthy adversary for them all."

"Listen tell me what's going on or I walk,"

"Idle threat" they quip. "You and I both know you have no choice now that you've seen our 'options' but to win the throne of the Underworld, you can't bear to watch it fall into the wrong hands. You're going to compete, Witness, in trials of wit and tyranny, and defeat, each and every one of them." A bone, whittled down to a sharp point manifests itself in the things shadow grip, offering to her and the paper to sign. 

Glaring at them Abbie takes it. She can think of no worse hands for this realm to land in besides hers. She's one of God's chosen. Surely this is blaspheming in some way. But she also cannot allow, as a Witness, for all of her sacrifice, for this kingdom to be raised against them now when their own earthly forces are divided. When her and Crane are stronger together and now torn in twain. 

She let's out a snort and shakes her head. Never a dull moment for you, eh Mills. She signs. 

Grace Abigail Mills

It's settled. 

Abbie is now competing in a demonic battle royal for the throne of the underworld. 

Enthusiastic clapping jars her. "Excellent," the creature cheers. "Now for training,"

"Wait wha---" 

and then both Abbie and her creature guide are gone.


	3. Chapter 3

"You were expecting a flaming pit?" the guide cajoles as Abbie stands gaping in the entry way.

"You're gonna need to give me a name if we're gonna carry on like this," she says, shaking herself out and following cautiously behind as they enter the room, that truthfully, could almost pass for an Above training arena. Machines, weights, denizens....working out. The walls are craggy sure, and everything seems to have a sort of bluish ghostly pallor, but otherwise, there's nothing terribly foreign or terrifying about the place. She's relieved to find that she's not actually scared. 

"A name? no one has been so kind to assume I had one," they chuckle but say nothing further as they lead her past all of the conventional apparatus into another hallway. "Alright," they sigh. "Perhaps there IS a flaming pit," and they gently usher her forward into a space where she smells sulfur and ash, and feels herself bead up with sweat. "You'll want to practice just being in here. Most of your trials will happen in the Mouth"

"The mouth?" Abbie queries, mopping her brow. 

"The Hell Mouth. It's a favourite spot down here, to be honest, the dead tend to be rather well, cold," they snicker. "But a live one? dehydration might be a real possibility for you. Especially if you've not built endurance for the place. This is part one of your conditioning."

"Exactly how long do I have to prepare?"

"Oh. Fortnight, Under time."

"You got your own system down here?"

"So much to learn," they muse, as if they find her charming before they slink over to a rock near a rather energetic leaping flame and they motion for Abbie to plunk herself down before it. 

"I can't stay down here," she starts. "Nothing you have can...." just then a bowl is thrust under her nose, and a damp shawl wrapped around her shoulders. 

"Just too start, help keep you cool."

"You don't expect me to drink the water down here do you?"

She is annoyed by the booming laughter she gets in response and feels self conscious when some other wandering souls glance pointedly in their direction. "This is Underworld, darling, not Purgatory. Purgatory is between. Underworld is decidedly and firmly on the opposite side of the spectrum to above. We do not operate under Purgatory rules. Bunch of mislead souls bumbling around who can't seem to wrap their heads around the phrase 'go to the light' no." they shudder. "I'm rather proud of the fact that we don't harbour any of them here. Much more prone to unruly malice they are too. We're organized down here. Planned mischief. Call me old fashioned but I miss the days of good ole godly trickery among siblings. When luring a human below ground was a tried and true method to stick it to a vexing peer. You are not our first living guest, I mean to say, Witness."

"Abbie," she corrects as she swallows thickly. 

"Oh, on friendly terms already are we? grand," they take a seat on the rock next to her. "This heat is the sort of thing that dulls with exposure. It's energy reactive. You need a cool head while in here to keep from bursting into flames. Arguments in the Mouth can be entertaining let me tell you. Nothing halts an argument faster than when one begins to breathe fire......or accelerates one, I suppose. Anyway, you'll want to get used to keeping a level head in here, before marching into actual trials in a firey prison. Get too worked up and you'll do your opponents job for them," 

"Why are you so invested in seeing me succeed?"

"I can't stand the rest. Really. Don't think me showing you around here means I like you, Witness. Above ground we are very much enemies."

"And here?"

"Very much the same that find ourselves with common cause. Don't trust me any further than you can throw me, and you'll survive long enough to win, get back home, and we can both be on the proper opposing ends once more. If we're lucky we'll have a chance at each other in years to come in battle. Anyway, as I was saying, we're equipped for humans, it's not as often as it once was, but we still know how to handle breathers down here. Between you and me, you'll win the crowds over easily. they're rather drawn to living, pulsing things. Fascinates them. Nostalgia, I suppose. Won't trouble you, I don't suspect. You'll want to avoid getting on the fates wrong side though, Clothos fancies herself an author when she weaves and Atropos can get rather scissor happy when incensed. Well," they rise suddenly, bowing their shrouded form. "I'll leave you to it. Flame will go out when you're done here. Try to relax. Meditate."

"Meditate," she repeats dubiously. 

"Yes, and if you hear howling, don't mind it, just the new spirits coming in. They insist on a racket. Grand entrances. Enjoy,"

Abbie huffs and tries to clear her head. Think calm things. Think of anything but the absolutely absurd thing that is her life. She stepped into a tree to save the world above and now she's trying to win the throne of the world below? 

And part one of training is sitting in a glorified sauna? 

"Well well, Miss Mills, I'd have not thought I'd have the pleasure of seeing you again so soon," Abbie stiffens. She knows that cool calm cultured voice. She cocks her head to the side, doing a slow sweep from foot up torso to the pair of eyes gazing at her intently. 

"Death has been good to you," Abbie quips, breaking eye contact. 

"Yes," the newcomer invites themselves to a seat beside her and she cringes. " I have Ichabod to thank for that, don't I, Miss Mills?"

"You know Katrina I don't remember you being all that good at playing coy."


	4. Chapter 4

"What a relief you maintain your candour."

"What a relief your hair hasn't turned to ash."

Abbie replies, drawing herself further away, absently swiping sweat from her brow. If Katrina notices her discomfort she pays no mind to it or else deliberately shuffles closer, a pleasant if not forced smile on her face.

"What brings you by?"

"Oh," Abbie gushes. "I heard the scenery was absolutely gorgeous down here."

Katrina's answering laugh rings through the room, throwing her head back she cackles to the ceiling and the flames around leap with excitement. When she regains her composure she turns her glittering eyes on Abbie and now there is a decided hint of malice in her smile. "I saw it, you know. When you gallantly trotted off into that tree. I cheered madly for your demise, but oh, what have we here---you've fallen into this domain, and I find myself again fated to this prickly dwarf thorn in my side."

"Dwarf"

"I do not think I ever truly loathed you until you killed my son. Not until it was clear to me that you would choose him---my husband---who has done you no great favours since he entered your life, over kinship with your fellow woman."

"We were never fellows, Katrina."

"No? Not when you tried to help me acclimate? and went such dire lengths for my rescue? My word Abigail, I  _liked_ you before that incident. I began to harbour envy yes, but I still rather liked you."

"Even while plotting to raise your own coven and destroying us all?"

 Eyes narrowed Abbie knows she's pressed a button for the witch. "I was striving for my potential," she spits. "I was reclaiming that which I had staunched out of blind affection for that fool."

"You were Henry's pawn." Abbie counters, evidently bored. She tears her gaze away from the woman who seems on the brink of  bursting into flames and glances around, wondering if any of the other denizens are paying attention. No, just meditating. When she turns back to Katrina she does indeed catch the woman outing a small spark dancing at the lace of her skirt. Abbie smirks. "You've never had an original thought, Katrina, always someone else's tool. A cog in a grand scheme---"

"And you see yourself so different" she fires back. "Your path has been paved by you alone? Do not tell me of having my life chosen for me, Abigail Mills. You are living proof of that very fate." She thrusts her chest and flings her arms out, encompassing their surroundings she tosses her red mane and smiles wickedly. "And if your presence here is any indication, it has not served you any better than I"

The words sting and Abbie quickly grows irritable. "What is it you want, aside from badgering me."

"You've expressed an interest to rule down here. I wish for you to withdraw."

"It's cute you think I'm so easily persuaded."

Katrina's pale hand lances out and wraps securely around Abbie's wrist with surprising strength and tugs her forward, off balance from her seat to her knees. "I harbour no great fondness for you," she whispers. "But I do not wish for you to remain here, period."

Glaring Abbie pushes to her feet, wrenching herself from the woman's grasp. "What do you propose? I'll just wriggle my nose and go back? I didn't see a an X marks exit down here, did you?"

Visibly fuming now, there are flames crackling beneath the witches pale skin as she rises to her feet and makes a point of looking down at her, as if to remind her of her height. As if height is supposed to equate strength. "I will aid you." she replies through gritted teeth. 

"Aid me in what"

"I do not recall you being thick headed, Miss Mills."

"Out with it."

"I want to win. I want to rule."

"And you see me as a threat, obviously. What makes you think I'm going to run away from here so you can inherit the Underworld?"

"You have a penchant for martyrdom, that much is clear. I think you would leave it meant I could give you something, anything."

"Such  _as_?" Abbie prompts impatiently. 

The fire simmering in Katrina's skin cools and she grins. "Help me to thwart the others, Abigail. And I will help you return to the world above. And I will further help you steal two souls to take with you."

"Two souls......." Abbie trails off, staggering with the weight of this revelation she returns to her abandoned seat. She feels weak in her heart. When she glances up she can see the satisfied gleam in Katrina's eyes. She knows she's got her. 

Two Souls. 

Her mother and her mentor.

Lori Mills, and August Corbin. 


	5. Chapter 5

Accommodations. The Underworld, has accommodations. The guide returned in the midst of Katrina departing, calling a false "Best of luck, Abigail" as she went. The form had turned, watching as she went before making a disgruntled sound.

"Thinks highly of herself, that one. Come along, Witness."

"Abbie"

It's form rolled exaggeratedly from one side to the other, Abbie supposes the gesture was meant to approximate rolling its eyes. " _Abbie_ " it rasps. " Time you saw your quarters"

Abbie gaped at it. "I'm sorry, my what?"

* * *

 

"Heathens ne'er do wells, imps and restless are we, unruly, even, yes!" the creature admits happily. "But we do sometimes resemble civility. At least enough for creature comforts. Remember, this is the realm of the dead and gone. Poor things, we make them feel at home."

"I'm sure you do," Abbie replies, skeptically drawing the blue grey gossamer curtain, swiping her hand on her pants when done. 

"Soul thread" it supplies nonchalantly as it follows her in. 

"I don't want to know,"

But the thing goes on to explain anyway. "We can thank Clothos for it. It ties the place together. Gives them a sense of home."

"It's not made of actual Souls?"

It's shadow body quivers with amusement. "We must keep some secrets, Witness. You are not one of us, yet." they glide ahead of her, passing a wispy grey hand over the slab that she supposes will be her bed. At it's touch more of the soul thread appears, crisscross and weaving itself into a thicker comforter than should be possible. Another rock twists and wraps itself into a torch light on the wall. "What did she want," it inquires off handedly as it goes about redecorating. Abbie is too transfixed as she watches the empty chamber fill with eerie, ghostly semblances of home, even if they are ash coloured and all squashed into half the space. There's a smaller chamber where she'll wash, and another that off shoots to entertain---she supposes, if the thing is bothering to put seating and a table, and what could approximate a harp. It glides over and ripples its smoky appendages along the strings until it releases a shrill shriek. She claps her hands over her ears and glares. She still cannot see eyes but she can feel the weight of suspicion and tempered anger baring down on her. "What did the witch want," it snaps. 

"For me to drop out,"

It laughs. "She still underestimates you,"

Abbie frowns.

"I read your tapestry." it answers. "In the weaving room? All living and dead have one. I entreated Clothos to let me have a look-sie at our new roomies, history"  it snickers to itself. "Past present future, she knows it all. Fidgety old Crone. That's why she spins and weaves, you know. Couldn't keep her fingers still long enough for anything else." If it notices Abbie has gone stock still it doesn't show it. "I have seen the lay of the land of your life, mortal. Those with whom you have toiled, mortal and immortal. All of that fire packaged so small."

Abbie doesn't dare ask but her heart leapt at 'past' is it possible? could she reweave her life? reroute....avert? the whole thing apocalypse and all, from here? Or the future---could she weave a quick end? The cogs in her mind turn, spinning furiously out of control. Whatever else she does here, she decides she'll need to see the weaving room. The key---to what she's not sure, but there is infinite possibility for her in this war, it is a resource, and she will find a way to it. 

The hooded figure finally notes her silence and cocks to the side, studying her. "The witch made, and continues to make the mistake of underestimating you,  _Abbie_ " It whispers as it glides closer, pausing a breath away. It brings with it the stench of must and vague decay. Something sweet turning sour. She can taste it on her tongue.

It lingers there, and she feels again its heavy scrutiny.  " I will _**not**_ ,"

It slithers past her, out of her quarters. 

The words nestle in her ear, what should be a compliment. 

Though she recognizes it for a warning. 

 


End file.
